Fugitive
by OrbitalVelocity
Summary: Tails awakes in a holding cell to find he has been captured. Now he's on the run, trying to balance his battles with a mysterious military organization and a band of thieves without endangering his friends. M for violence and language.
1. Chapter 1: Gemini

Fugitive

Chapter 1: Gemini

Interrogations have a long history of unpleasantness. This one was no different.

The prisoner's hands were cuffed to a sturdy bar welded into the stainless steel table. The table itself was securely bolted to the floor, as was the uncomfortable chair on which he sat. As far as he could tell, the room contained no potential weapons. Even the single flickering lightbulb was contained by a cage attached to the ceiling.

One of the nauseating hospital green walls was taken up by a large two-way mirror. The linoleum tile, which had probably been white at some point, was now a sick yellowish brown trimmed with a number of disquieting red stains. Under the table was a rusty grate covering a drain. The stains seemed to flow into it, as if someone had done a poor job of washing something away.

All in all, it was a situation he wanted to remove himself from as quickly as possible. The cuffs, at least, would be no problem.

"I like to think of myself as a reasonable man..."

Now if only _this_ bastard would leave.

The man who had been questioning him was of average height and build. He wore a gray pinstripe suit and a hat that came low enough to cover his brow. A pair of dark sunglasses hid his eyes. His appearance suggested that he had never seen combat. He sure acted like tough shit, though, the way he leaned over, palms flat on the table, and sneered at the two-tailed fox across from him.

"So I'm going to give you one more chance," he continued. "Where is Sonic the Hedgehog?"

He spat out the words with the laughable conviction of a man who truly thought himself terrifying. He gave Tails the pathetic impression of a chihuahua baring its teeth.

_You'll have to do better than that_, the fox thought, silently glaring into where he guessed the man's eyes were. The interrogator's sneer grew wider.

"Are you even listening to me?"

He wasn't.

"Fine," the man hissed. "Have it your way." He turned and nodded at the mirror. After a moment, a man wearing a black hood and a rubber smock entered carrying a metal tray. The man in the suit made his exit, throwing one final sneer over his shoulder as he did. Tails made a mental note that the door did not appear locked before turning his attention to the tray. It was adorned with an array of sharp objects, some of them particularly sinister-looking devices he had never seen before.

The hooded man picked up a straight razor and flipped it open. He ran his thumb across the blade, making a big show of how sharp it was. Tails scoffed. He had, of course, been trained to withstand torture.

But that didn't mean it didn't hurt like hell.

Tails hissed in pain as the razer slashed across his face. He couldn't see out of his right eye. For a moment he was afraid he had been blinded, but after blinking a few times realized that it was just full of blood pouring from the fresh gash. The relatively mild injury had been intended to scare him, not cause any real damage. On anyone else, it might have worked; quite a bit of blood was dripping onto the floor. The cut was deep and would probably require stitches, but Tails knew that head injuries always bleed a lot.

The fox quickly regained his composure. The torturer seemed disappointed as he closed the razor and placed it back on the tray with a grunt. He reached for another device, one Tails did not recognize. It looked somewhat like an eggbeater. He rotated a key on the side and the device split into several sections at one end. As he continued to rotate, the flaps expanded further. He closed the device again.

Suddenly, he reached for the fox's head. Caught by surprise, Tails made to bite his hand. The hooded man was fast, grabbing him by the jaw and pulling his mouth open. The fox struggled, but the man's powerful grip kept him in place as the device was forced into his mouth. He slowly began to turn the key again.

Tails could feel the object's leaves expanding in his mouth. He tried to pull away, but it wouldn't fit past his teeth anymore. His eyes grew wide as he suddenly realized what it was for.

_Fuck! He's going to break my jaw!_

His breathing quickened as the device stretched his mouth open painfully. He closed his eyes and tried to remain calm and centered like he had been taught.

_Okay, Miles, stay cool. This is going to hurt, but the pain will only be temporary. Stay calm because if you reveal anything then these guys are going to find Sonic and then find Knothole and then destroy Knothole and then there'll be nobody to FUCK HE'S GOING TO BREAK MY FUCKING JAW FUCK!_

The fox screamed thrashed, desperately trying to escape. There was a sudden crash followed by the sound of glass hitting the tile. The torturer leapt back with a muffled yell and scrambled out the door, leaving the device in Tails' mouth.

Tails wasted no time lifting his left foot onto the table and fumbling around in his sock for the bobby pin he kept there. He located it and set to work freeing himself.

The cuffs were the old-fashioned steel kind with standard-issue ratcheting locks. Evidently, the new electronically-locked carbon fiber variety didn't fit into their budget. It was practically an insult. He had the cuffs off in less than five seconds.

He reached for the device in his mouth and gingerly turned the key. The device expanded again and he let out a silent scream.

_Wrong way..._

Carefully, he turned it the other way, and thankfully the flaps began to retract. He removed the object from his mouth and tossed it on the floor, where it landed on some shards of glass. He took in his surroundings as he painfully tested his jaw.

The two-way mirror hand been shattered, revealing the dark room full of computer equipment behind it. The man in the suit was slumped over the partition, clearly dead. His glasses were snapped in two and his bloodstained hat had fallen to the floor. The black bruises covering his face suggested that he had been beaten and then hurled through the window. Tails stared at the gruesome scene. The torturer must have seen the culprit and fled.

An alarm sounded, snapping him out of his trance. He grabbed the straight razor from the tray and threw a glance over the rest of the items on the tray, thankful he didn't have time to get acquainted with them.

The hallway was bathed in flashing red light. Its layout was unfamiliar to him. He had been unconscious when they brought him in, and they had blindfolded him when they transferred him from the holding cell. He cursed as he realized he had no idea where he was going.

Frantic voices called out from far away in one direction, so Tails hurried off the other way. His face was still bleeding, and he could feel it matting his fur.

The facility was a maze of metal tunnels and it wasn't long before he was lost. He cursed again, wishing the guards hadn't taken his things when they brought him in.

Somebody yelled from around the corner and the sound of heavy boots stomped toward him. Tails ducked into the nearest door. It slid shut behind him with a quiet WOOSH just as the sound of footsteps passed. He held his breath until they faded. The room was an empty closet with no other exits, so he returned to the door. It opened to reveal a guard's back.

Reacting quickly, Tails clamped a hand over the guard's mouth and held the razor to his throat. The guard let out a muffled yell as he was dragged through the doorway. Once it had slid shut again, Tails whispered in the guard's ear.

"Okay, here's what's gonna go down. I'm going to remove my hand from your mouth and you are _very_ quietly going to tell me where the hell they put my things. If you struggle or try to yell for help, I will not hesitate to kill you where you stand. Understood?"

The guard mumbled something that sounded affirmative, so Tails removed his hand.

"Make a right out of this door, take a left at the fork, then the first right and it'll be the second door on the left."

"Thank you."

Tails slammed the guard's head into the wall, knocking him out cold.

He followed the directions, keeping alert for any surprises along the way. The indicated door was marked "PROCESSING". He half-expected to find a patrol waiting for him on the other side, but the room was vacant. Across from him stood a tall metal cage padlocked shut. He examined the lock for a moment, before making a well-placed downward strike with his foot. The lock came free.

The familiar feel of his shoulder holster bearing twin Desert Eagles was comforting. He felt more himself already. He quickly snapped on his wrist communicator and grabbed a gadget that looked like two short metal sticks stuck together. He twisted one and pulled it away from the other. A holographic screen blinked to life in between.

"Map current location," he spoke into the screen.

A green three-dimensional rendering of the facility appeared, revealing even greater complexity than Tails had imagined. He sighed. This place could house a minotaur.

"Find nearest exit."

A series of hallways were highlighted in red, tracing a path from the small blue blip representing his current location. He was relieved to find that the exit was closer than he thought. He quickly memorized the path and deactivated the device.

He drew one of his pistols and slipped out into the hallway once more. The lights were still flashing, but everything had gone silent. The alarm had stopped and he could hear no more voices.

The memorized route led him to an elevator. He had hoped for stairs, but it would have to do. The display inside read 37. Tails wondered briefly whether he had been taken to Robotropolis; nowhere else had buildings that tall anymore. That thought, vanished, however, when the elevator began to rise. Tails made certain that he had, in fact, pressed the button for the first floor.

The elevator continued to rise, but the numbers on the display dropped. 34... 33... 32...

He was underground. He could be anywhere.

Eventually, the elevator rolled to a stop and the doors opened. Tightening his grip on the gun, Tails stepped out into the charred husk of a bombed-out building. By the looks of it, it had been a shop of some sort. The doors slipped closed behind him, blending perfectly into the wall. One couldn't see the seam unless they looked closely. As far as he could see, there was no way to get back in from the outside.

The streets were silent. The small town seemed to have been abandoned. Some buildings were burned, others reduced to rubble. The few that did remain standing had been looted and ransacked. There would be nothing useful left in them.

The place had probably been full of security cameras, so his first order of business should be to get as far away from here as possible, then plan a route back to Knothole later. If he couldn't-

He stopped. Something was seriously amiss here.

Tails hurried into the nearest building, the ruins of a hotel. He turned on his wrist communicator, switched to a secure frequency, and spoke a quick message.

"Gemini. Clover Protocol."

He took off the communicator, tapped a few buttons, and tossed it on the ground. It began fizzle and smoke. A soft red glow emnated from somewhere inside. Tails watched to make sure it self-destructed completely. When it was nothing more than a pile of melted plastic on the concrete, he took off.

Something struck a sour note about his escape. The sudden emergency, the cuffs, the empty halls, finding his stuff so easily... He had caught too many lucky breaks. They wanted him to escape. They would be watching him. Following.

The message had been a simple one. "I've been compromised. Don't come looking for me."

Wherever he went, he couldn't go back to Knothole.


	2. Chapter 2: Lone Wolf

Fugitive

Chapter 2: Lone Wolf

Tails kicked open the door and fumbled for the lightswitch. He located it after a moment and flipped it. The lights took a few seconds to flicker on, revealing a dingy motel room. He took a moment to be annoyed by the amateurish wiring job as he pulled his flight goggles off of his head.

He had only made it a few miles that day. He knew it wasn't safe to stop so early, but he needed to attend to the gash on his face before it got infected. It was his suspicion that he had been followed anyway.

He dropped his goggles, along with all of his other things, on the stained bedspread before dragging himself into the connected bathroom.

"Ugh," he said to his reflection with disgust. The fox glowering back at him looked broken. The fur on his face and chest was matted with dried blood, and the cut was still oozing. Dark circles outlined his sunken eyes. A large bruise marked the left side of his forehead, to his surprise. He didn't recall having sustained such an injury. After some thought, he remembered the factory.

_Must be from when I got knocked out._

He took a closer look at the cut, wincing as his fingers touched the tender flesh. As he had suspected, his face needed stitches. He had gotten supplies to close it himself, but there was no point in doing so until it was sterilized. First thing to do was wash out all the dirt and clotted blood. He eyed the shower distrustfully. With great reluctance, he stepped in and turned the knob.

The fox found the water cleaner than he had expected, albeit much too hard. He gritted his teeth as the mineral-rich liquid stung his cut and his eyes. He groaned, but the expression of pain soon smoothed over into one of pleasure as the hot water hit his body. He let out a contented sigh as he began working the knots out of his sore muscles. He would have stayed there for hours if he could. Unfortunately, water was expensive these days and he hadn't paid for the room.

After shampooing the blood out of his fur, he turned off the water and stepped out. He didn't bother drying himself before exiting into the bedroom. He realized he had left the door open and locked it tight before reaching for the paper bag he had brought with him. From it he removed a pack of sewing needles, a spool of orange thread, a lighter, and a liter of vodka. He returned to the bathroom.

He cracked the seal on the bottle and took a few gulps before tearing open the pack of needles with his teeth and removing one. He bit the safety tab off the lighter and began sterilizing the needle with the flame. Through his slowly blurring vision, he managed to thread it and tie it off. He poured another splash from the bottle over his face. It burned, but it would ensure that the cut was clean.

He raised the needle and set to work. The alcohol numbed the pain, but he could only hope the loss of coordination wouldn't lead him to stab himself in the eye by accident. The process was fairly easy; in training he had excelled at field medicine.

When Tails had finished, he studied his handiwork. Deeming it satisfactory and making a mental note that it would leave a badass scar, he collapsed on the bed, still dripping wet. He took another swig from the vodka bottle and assessed his situation. He couldn't return home until he was certain he had shaken his tail.

He shook one of his tails and grinned drunkenly at the horrible pun.

Trying to contact HQ would be too risky. Even his three-word message that morning was pushing it.

Freedom Fighter transmissions were normally indistinguishable from the typical chatter coming in and out of Robotropolis. Tails had designed the system himself: Each communicator was set to split the message into one-millisecond chunks and transmit each one along different frequencies in a specific order. The computer back at Knothole would decode all transmissions and play them back normally. As a security measure, each communicator was set to sweep a different set of frequencies. That way, if one was captured by Robotnik, the rest of their communications would remain secure. The fox was quite proud of himself for thinking of this one.

Now that they'd gotten hold of his wrist comm, though, there was a good chance they would be looking for his particular pattern. Knowing this, he had transmitted his message that morning across just one frequency, hoping to slip it right under their noses.

He would be completely alone until it was safe to return home. At nineteen years old, he was no longer a child and was more than capable of taking care of himself. Still, the idea scared him. Backup had always been little more than a call away, but that was no longer an option now that he'd turned his communicator into a high-tech puddle.

It suddenly occurred to him that the alcohol would probably do no good for his dehydration. He plunked the bottle down on the nightstand and half-walked, half-fell into the bathroom. He steadied himself on the counter and twisted the knob on the sink. He drank from his cupped hands. The hard water tasted metallic, but at least he wouldn't be hung over in the morning. He made his way back to the bed one more time, laid down, and squinted at the clock.

8:43

Made sense. The sun hadn't set yet. Still, though, it had been a long day. There would be no harm in closing his eyes for a few minutes.

...

20 hours earlier, Tails was working solo on recon. He'd been sent to investigate the sudden shutdown of a particularly active factory on the outskirts of Robotropolis, the latest in a number of strange occurrences. As was detailed in early reports, there was no sign of activity from within.

Rotor's voice barked out of his wrist comm.

"Keep on your toes, Gemini. That factory's just a little too quiet for comfort."

Tails raised the communicator to his mouth.

"Copy that, Baby Boomer. Initiating radio silence."

The codenames had been Sonic's idea, before he disappeared. He insisted that they would make Freedom Fighting "cooler." Everybody assumed he had probably been watching too many bad spy movies, but humored him anyway.

Tails deactivated his comm and began to scale the brick wall. The factory windows were dark, and the sounds of the machines within had ceased. Just hours ago, this place had been churning out Swatbots with a speed they'd never seen before. Now it was completely silent, as if somebody had pressed some secret off button. Taking Rotor's advice to heart, the fox remained alert.

He made his way to the building, weaving in and out of some large pieces sheet metal discarded on the dead grass. The facility occupied a former aircraft hangar and still had the enormous metal doors. The steel creaked and whined as he slid them open. He stopped and listened for signs of life, or at least a reasonable facsimilie of it.

Nothing but darkness greeted him.

He stepped inside, his footsteps echoing on the concrete floor. Never dropping his guard, he carefully made his way through the deactivated machinery. Something was definitely off. This place was absolutely dead.

_Maybe I should call in and report..._

There was a sound of screaming metal as the door slammed shut behind him. Tails whirled around, but the factory had been plunged into near-blackness. Squares of moonlight dotted the floor where it shone through the high windows. His guns would be useless if he couldn't aim, so he readied himself in a fighting stance.

Without warning, something slammed against his ribs, hurling him into a bank of computers with a crash. The fox scrambled to his feet, trying to locate his attacker. He heard a click to his right and struck out as hard as he could toward it. His foot connected with flesh and his enemy let out a grunt before falling to the ground.

Tails celebrated his minor victory, but could hear the other person quickly climb to his feet. He listened for movement, but his opponent was quiet and fast. A foot met the back of his knee, collapsing his leg out from under him. He quickly rolled to the side. Something met the floor with a loud THWACK where his head had been.

The fox wound up his tails and took off. He grabbed a rafter near the ceiling and pulled himself up out of reach. Using the opportunity to catch his bearings, he tried to will his eyes to adjust to the darkness.

Something knocked him off balance and he fell from his perch. He tried to hover and slow his descent, but he had too little time to react. He tumbled down the side of some machinery, rolling when he hit the floor.

_Son of a bitch! He can see in the dark!_

Something connected with his skull with a sickening crack.

And then the darkness got even blacker.

...

When Tails awoke, the clock read 10:17. He was confused. If it was this late, then why was it so bright out?

He bolted upright when he realized he had been out for almost fourteen hours. He jumped out of bed and began collecting his things, mentally cursing himself all the way.

_...could have been caught, could have been robbed, could have been fucking KILLED while your drunk ass was passed out!_

He decided to leave the sewing supplies and after some consideration parted with the remaining half of the vodka. It was no real loss; he hadn't paid for them, after all. Seeing his disheveled appearance and that he was armed, the shopkeeper had told him to just take the items, hoping to avoid being shot. Tails hadn't been planning on shooting him, of course. He had, however, intended to steal the items and feel guilty about it later, so it worked out well for everybody.

After slipping on his brown combat boots - he had long since parted with the red and white sneakers - and strapping his holster to his chest, he picked up his HoloScreen. Necessary as it was to destroy the wrist comm, he couldn't bear to part with his favorite gadget. It had been a pet project of his, equipped with electromagnetic mapping technology along with a slew of other functions.

He twisted one handle and pulled it away from the other. Two narrower metal pieces extended, connecting the handles to each other for stability. The holographic display fizzled into existence in the center.

"Where the hell am I?"

The system's GPS blinked to life, showing the fox his position on a virtual map of Mobius.

"Zoom in."

The image zoomed, showing a more detailed view of his immediate surroundings. The name of the town, Windover, was overlayed at the bottom. Smaller bits of text dotted the map denoting specific locations within it. The blue blip was right over STOP 'N' GO MOTEL.

Tails didn't recognize the place.

"Zoom out a bit."

The map contracted somewhat, revealing several other towns nearby. The edge of Robotropolis was visible in the top left corner. By his estimate, the Great Forest was a hundred and twenty miles or so to the southwest, at least a week on foot. But he couldn't go back there yet.

He sighed. "And just what do I do now?"

Red text flashed on the screen: COMMAND NOT RECOGNIZED.

The fox thought for a minute. He had to hide out _somewhere._ He was being pursued by...

Exactly who _was_ he hiding from? He had assumed his captors to be affiliated with Robotnik, but their methods were far more competent than anything he had ever tried.

Even if their plan had worked, though, it wouldn't lead them to Sonic. The blue hero had gone AWOL weeks ago. Nobody had a clue why he would just up and leave. He was assumed to be alive - if he had been killed, Robotnik would be flaunting it all over the info channels.

There was a heavy knock on the door.

Tails stiffened. Nobody was supposed to know he was here.

"Thermal imaging," he whispered.

The HoloScreen faded to a transparent view of the room behind it with a blue tinge indicating the cold carpet and furniture. He turned the device toward the door. A single form highlighted in warm colors stood on the other side.

Tails deactivated the device and silently inched his way toward the door.

Again, a fist pounded against the wood from the other side.

The fox's hand flew to one of his pistols. He drew it and flicked off the safety. Making sure the chain was securely latched, he cracked the door and peeked out.

A middle-aged rat in a sweat-stained wife beater stood outside, looking extremely pissed off. He began to yell.

"YOU THINK YOU CAN JUST WALTZ IN HERE, USE _MY WATER, _AND STAY THE NIGHT WITHOUT PAYIN'?"

The fox relaxed and holstered his gun. The rat must have been the owner of the motel.

"Look, buddy-"

"LOOK NOTHIN'! GIVE ME ONE GOOD REASON WHY I SHOULDN'T CALL THE COPS?"

It was an empty threat. Both Tails and the manager knew the police were just as likely to rob the place as arrest him.

"Hold on a sec."

He shut the door. The manager started cursing at him.

"HEY! WHAT THE FUCK? WHADDAYA THINK YOU'RE DOIN', YOU FUCKIN'-"

Tails opened the door again and thrust the vodka bottle in the rat's face, surprising him.

"Uh... fuh... fuckin..."

The rat stammered for a few seconds. Tails waved the bottle and the rat took it. He sniffed the opening and a smile came to his face when he realized what was inside.

"Heyyy..." he began approvingly. "Maybe you ain't so bad after all... Alright, buddy, I won't call the fuzz."

The fox closed the door again.

"B-but I still want you outta there!" the rat stuttered from outside.

Tails snapped on his goggles before returning to the mirror the check his stitches. They were a bit uneven, but the cut would heal properly as long as he kept it clean and didn't pull the thread loose.

There was a pounding at the door again.

"Alright already!" the fox yelled. "I'm leaving!"

He threw open the door, ready for another screaming match with the manager.

Instead, he found himself staring down the barrel of a gun.


	3. Chapter 3: The Stickup

Fugitive

Chapter 3: The Stick-Up

Tails had been found. He cursed himself for staying so long when he knew damn well he should be constantly on the move. Now he was going to be recaptured or killed unless he thought fast.

He had reholstered his gun, so that option was out. The idea of knocking the weapon away and engaging the enemy hand-to-hand briefly drifted through his mind, but the thought was eradicated when the barrel was jammed closer between his eyes. There was no chance of getting out of the way before they could get a shot off. The fox wracked his brain for any other solutions, but came up dry. It seemed his only two options were to die there or go quietly.

"Gimme all your fuckin' money!"

_What?_

Tails hadn't even glanced at his assailant, instead focusing all of his attention on the gun For the first time, he took a good look. The owner of the pistol in his face was a thin, malnourished-looking yellow coyote with several piercings in one of his ears. A filthy red bandana was tied around his forehead. He certainly didn't look like he belonged to any kind of military organization.

The coyote pushed the gun harder against his skull.

"You fuckin' deaf, man?"

Tails was unable to hold back a laugh of relief. This guy had no particular interest in him. He was just a common thug, probably a Raptor junkie looking for a fix.

His relief was not well-received. The coyote snarled.

"You find something funny, you little bitch? Your ass is gettin' robbed!"

The fox managed to control his laughter, reminding himself that there was a very real gun pointed at his head, even if its owner didn't look particularly adept at using it. Now that he looked closer, the bastard was actually holding it _sideways._

_Who the hell does this guy think he is?_

Still grinning, Tails finally spoke. "Do I really look like I have any money?"

The coyote looked confused. A look of sudden realization came over him as he noticed Tails' injuries for the first time. He grinned and let out a single harsh laugh.

"Ha! Somebody mug you already?"

"In a manner of speaking," Tails replied.

The mugger laughed again. "Shit, man, you're all _kinds_ of fucked up!"

He laughed a bit more before his smile faded away into a stony expression that he probably thought looked very threatening. He tightened his grip on the gun and spoke seriously.

"Well, how about you come with me anyway."

It wasn't a question. Tails decided it would be easiest to comply for the time being. The coyote grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him out the door onto the second-floor balcony. He placed the gun against the base of his skull and gave him a shove toward the stairs.

"Walk."

Tails walked.

"And put your fucking hands up. You try anything and I blow your goddamn brains out."

Tails stifled the urge to inform him that a shot at that angle wouldn't go anywhere near his brain and that he should instead be threatening to sever his spinal cord. They reached the bottom of the stairs and then the office door.

"Open it."

Tails opened it.

Two more guys stood inside - a lizard and a cougar. Both were wearing the same red bandanas as the coyote.

_Oh, how adorable,_ Tails thought. _They're a "gang."_

The cougar spoke very animatedly about something, gesturing wildly with his pistol as he did so. The lizard, carrying a tactical shotgun, nodded along looking bored. The manager was there too, tied to a chair and attempting to voice his objections through his sweaty shirt, which had been tied around his mouth as a makeshift gag.

The room itself appeared to have a dual purpose. In one corner near the door sat the manager's desk, in an incredible state of disorganization. Tails decided to give him the benefit of the doubt and assume it had been ransacked. The vodka bottle, now only a quarter full, had been placed on top. At the other end of the room stood several sturdy-looking wooden tables surrounded by several not-so-sturdy-looking chairs. Perplexingly, there seemed to be more tables than seats. Throughout the open area, several support pillars held up the ceiling.

The others took notice of their presence. The fox's holster was roughly removed and he was shoved toward a chair.

"Sit."

Tails sat.

The lizard spoke, his voice low and raspy.

"Where'd you find this one, Jackie?"

"Hidin' in one of the rooms like a pussy," replied the coyote as the cougar produced a length of rope and began typing Tails to the chair.

Tails felt that to be an unfair misrepresentation of his character, but again chose not to speak. He was excercising an exceptional amount of self-control today.

"We found the safe." The cougar announced, the words slightly muffled as he tightened a knot with his teeth. The lizard gestured to the wall safe behind the desk, which appeared to have been cleverly and innovatively hidden behind a painting. The artwork was now in shreds on the floor.

Jackie walked over and removed the gag from the still-screaming rat's mouth.

"Mmmpth mmghTHERFUCKING ASSHOLES WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE WALKIN' IN HERE-"

The coyote whipped him in the face with the butt of his gun. The manager finally fell silent.

"Tell me the combination to the safe."

"Why should I?"

Jackie pistol-whipped him again.

Seeing his point the rat answered. "5-7-3-6."

"And don't you say another fucking word."

The lizard punched in the code. A light flashed green and the door clicked and swung open. The robbers laughed while the rat sat there looking defeated. Their faces soon fell when they saw what was inside.

"Fourteen bucks?"

Tails snorted.

"I told you hitting a motel was a waste of time," the lizard sighed.

"Shut the fuck up, Dimitri."

"There ain't even anybody staying here!" the cougar chimed in.

"Well fuck you too!"

They looked like they would be busy arguing for a while, so Tails took the opportunity to plot his escape.

The wooden chairs he and the manager were tied to were old and wobbly. They would probably come apart without much trouble. Getting to his Desert Eagles would prove more difficult. The weapons had been dumped on the desk next to a sad-looking plate of bagels. The fox studied the tables. They looked heavy enough to withstand gunfire. The fox could feel a plan formulating. He leaned over and whispered to the rat.

"Just keep your mouth shut and I'll get us ou-"

"'Ey! That continental breakfast ain't _free_ y'know!"

Dimitri stood with a bagel halfway to his gaping mouth. Everyone, including Tails, silently stared at the manager. Jackie stepped over to him, drew his pistol, and shot him in the head.

The cougar panicked. "Shit, Jackie, you said we wouldn't kill anyone this time!"

"Relax, Marv."

"No, screw you! I'm done with this shit!" He holstered his pistol and made for the door. Dimitri followed.

"Hey! Don't you walk out on me!" Jackie hurried out the door after them, leaving Tails alone with the dead rat.

_Amateurs._

Not sure how much time he had, the fox began to rock the chair back and forth. It tipped, and he forced all of his body weight into the motion. The chair hit the floor with a sharp crack and split into several pieces. He grunted at the impact, hoping he hadn't torn his stitches.

Tails struggled and kicked his way out of the ropes and scrambled to his feet. He hurried to the desk. As he strapped the holster to his chest, he eyed the dead manager. Despite the rat's unfavorable personality, he till felt sorry for him.

The footsteps returned outside the door and Jackie's voice faded into earshot. "...can't let him live, he's a _murder witness! _Get in there and take care of it!"

Grabbing the vodka bottle, Tails flattened himself against the wall behind the door as the cougar re-entered the office. He froze when he saw the busted chair. Tails brought the bottle down on his head before he could react. He collapsed to the floor, momentarily stunned.

The voices outside grew quiet for a moment. The lizard spoke.

"What was that?"

Tails cursed and dashed for the other end of the room. He grabbed the edge of a table and heaved. It weighed more than he had expected.

The door flew open and he heard a yell.

The table finally gave way. As he vaulted over it, he heard the lizard pump the shotgun, needlessly expelling a perfectly good shell. A hail of buckshot whizzed over his head, punching five or six holes in the wall. A sharp crunching sound indicated that the remaining few pellets had connected with the dense wood of his makeshift shield. Several shots sailed past from Jackie's pistol.

Tails took a deep breath and snapped out to one side, gun in hand. He quickly took aim and fired, feeling the familiar kick of the .50 caliber round as it left the barrel. The slug connected with Dimitri's knee, severing his lower leg in a red mist of flesh and blood. The lizard screamed as he went down, his weapon clattering to the floor. The coyote leapt behind the desk, returning fire. His insistence on holding the gun like an idiot was costing him accuracy. Two shots hit the barricade, and the other two went elsewhere.

Tails ducked back behind cover. He raised his gun over the edge of the table and blindly fired three shots. Each one boomed in the enclosed space. Tails hoped it would scare the coyote off.

"Holy shit!"

Evidently, Marv had awoken. Tails heard the door open and then slam shut as he fled.

_Two left. Well... one and a half._

He chanced a look. Dimitri lay on the floor in shock, trying desperately to stop the bleeding from his shredded leg. The three blind rounds had made sizeable holes in the wall, one of them right above the desk. Any sane man would have run for the door after a shot came that close to his head.

Jackie popped up and fired a few more rounds.

"YOU'RE PINNED DOWN, ASSHOLE!"

_Mental note: Idiots are dangerous - avoid shootouts with them in the future._

The fox ducked behind the table once more to rethink his strategy. Those last few shots had been a lot closer; evidently the coyote had finally discovered the sights on his gun. Shooting through the desk wouldn't be a problem, but Tails wasn't particularly fond of killing. Maiming, perhaps, but not killing. In any case, between the remainder of his current mag and the full one in his other gun, he had only ten rounds left.

He watched another bullet fly past and cut its way through the drywall. The coyote was shooting a small caliber, but the wall didn't seem to be offering any resistance. If he could get close enough, it would probably be thin enough to punch through. One of the support pillars would make decent cover as a halfway point.

He peeked out. Jackie had hidden again. Wasting no time, the fox bolted for the pillar. His gun slipped out of his hand in the process. He made a mental note to collect it later.

Knowing his opponent's magazine must be running low, he waited for an opportunity. Sure enough, only two rounds thunked against the pillar before the telltale click of a dry fire reached his ears.

Tails barreled toward the wall as the coyote squeezed the trigger again and again, searching desperately for a round hidden somewhere in his gun. The fox rammed his shoulder into the wall as hard as he could, easily breaking through. He coughed and sputtered as a cloud of plaster found its way into his lungs. Blinking the white dust out of his eyes, he found himself in a room very similar to the one he had slept in.

He could hear Jackie fumbling with a fresh magazine, so he made for the bathroom and wrenched the window open. He tumbled into a patch of dead overgrown rose bushes, the dry thorns scratching his skin. He fought his way free of the branches and took off for the roof.

He quietly crawled to the front of the building. Glad he had chosen a second-story room to break into, he dropped onto the balcony outside his door. He grabbed the HoloScreen from where he had discarded it on the bed, then made his way back to the roof.

The fox laid there, peering over the edge as Jackie stepped out into the parking lot, now carrying the shotgun. The coyote looked nervous, spinning around several times to check for his mysteiously vanished foe as he made his way to the street. He disappeared behind a boarded-up convenience store.

Tails slid the HoloScreen into its pocket on his holster. Remembering his dropped gun, he hovered down to the ground and re-entered the office. Dimitri was still on the floor holding his leg. He screamed when he saw Tails. The fox decided to ignore him for the moment.

His gun was not behind the overturned table where he had dropped it. He searched under the other tables, thinking that perhaps it had been kicked away. It was nowhere to be found. It wasn't until he walked to the front of the room and saw Jackie's pistol discarded behind the desk that he realized what had happened.

The bastard had taken his gun.

He snatched up the coyote's weapon and turned to Dimitri. He raised the barrel to the lizard's skull and spoke commandingly.

"Tell me where he went."

The lizard closed his eyes and grabbed his leg tighter. He started to shake, and a moment later let out a sob. Tails sighed in frustration and lowered the gun. He threw open the door and began searching around the outside of the building.

A minute or so later, he came to a door marked "UTILITIES - EMPLOYEES ONLY". A well-placed kick near the inside of the lock tore it free and the door swung open. The dark, dank room behind it housed the building's various heating and water units. Tails stepped over a shallow pool of standing water toward some shelves on one wall. He grabbed a blowtorch, a flint striker, an old rag, and a piece of leftover aluminum siding and made his way back to the office.

The lizard was still sitting in his ever-growing pool of blood, but had stopped crying. He was starting to look pale. Tails crouched on the floor in front of him and spoke calmly but firmly.

"If you tell me where he went, I will cauterize the wound. If you don't, I will leave your ass to die."

Dimitri eyed him distrustfully, but seemed to change his mind when Tails lit the torch. The lizard had begun to shiver, but managed to stutter out a reply.

"Th-th-thieves' den in Harland. S-storm drain behi-hind-" He swallowed. "Behind a l-l-library. That's where we all stay."

"How many of you?"

"Lots. Maybe thirty or s-s-so."

Satisfied, Tails behind to heat the aluminum siding with the blowtorch. The metal was thin, so it wasn't long before it began to glow red. He handed the rag to Dimitri.

"Take a deep breath and bite down on this."

The glowing metal met the torn stump with a harsh sizzle. The lizard bit down hard and screamed into the rag. The sickening smell of cooked flesh reached Tails' nose. After a few seconds, he pulled the siding away to examine his work. Dimitri's screams died down to a low moan. His leg was blackened and in fact looked even wose than before, but the bleeding had stopped.

The fox stood to go.

"Wait!" the lizard shouted. "You're just gonna leave me here?"

Tails looked back at him over his shoulder.

"I said I'd cauterize the wound. I've no interest in helping you any further. Somebody's probably called the cops by now." He opened the door. "As far as I'm concerned, they can have you."

He left the dying lizard and the dead rat alone together, ignoring the screams as his thoughts returned to his gun.

Of all the things the coyote could have stolen, he had chosen very poorly.

That Desert Eagle was the first gun Tails ever shot. On his thirteenth birthday, he had been brought into the Knothole armory to begin his weapons training. The large black and chrome magnum caught his eye right away. Rotor tried to convince him to start with something smaller, but the fox insisted.

The walrus showed him how to load the magazine and chamber a round before explaining proper firing technique. Tails listened intently and followed the instructions as best he could. Line up the sights, exhale, slowly squeeze the trig-

The recoil blew him off his feet.

Rotor ran over to check on him, but found the fox unharmed and laughing. Tails trained with a variety of guns that year, but the Desert Eagle had always been his favorite. His fourteenth birthday rolled around and the gun was gifted to him. He had taken excellent care of it ever since.

He acquired the second gun and the holster when he was seventeen. Though it was equally functional, it did not carry the same emotional value.

In short, Tails fucking loved his gun. His other situation could wait; this took top priority.

He holstered Jackie's pistol and pulled out the HoloScreen. Harland was seven miles to the northwest.

Tails wasn't particularly fond of killing, but today he would make an exception.


	4. Chapter 4: Pain and Polymer

Fugitive

Chapter 4: Pain and Polymer

Tails squeezed the trigger and watched as another blob of hot lead connected with the tree before him. He looked down and studied Jackie's gun.

_Well, it's certainly much easier to control than mine, _he thought._ Pretty much what I'd expect out of a 9mm. Still, though..._

The fox ran his fingers over the lightweight plastic frame.

_Compared to my Eagle, this is like a child's toy._

He turned the gun over to read the manufacturer's inscription.

_Springfield XD. It's a service model. Wouldn't put it past Jackie to have stolen it from a dead cop._

He raised the weapon and fired a few more shots. He sighed.

_Nines just don't kick the same._

Satisfied that he had familiarized himself with the temporary replacement, Tails put it away. The barrel was a good two inches shorter than the gun the holster was intended for, but it fit securely enough. He started to walk.

Tails wasn't worried about anyone hearing the gunshots. According to the HoloScreen, the strip of forest in which he stood was miles away from civilization. Even if anybody heard, he was far enough out of the way that they would assume he was hunting stray cats.

_Not that this place could support much life anyway,_ he thought. _There isn't a shred of green in sight._

Gnarled trunks and twisted branches grasped at the sky, dark spires silhouetted against the early afternoon sun. The fox wiped the sweat from his brow. It was three more miles to Harland.

...

When Tails arrived in town, he wasn't surprised to find it abandoned. It consisted of a single main street lined with shops leading up to a large domed building that must have been the library. The smaller buildings appeared to have been looted and several of their windows were smashed, but the library seemed relatively untouched.

_Chaos forbid they steal something of any ACTUAL value._

The building was an extravagant affair, built of polished marble that gleamed in the sunlight. Tails made his way past a long-deactivated fountain and up the smooth white steps to the door. It creaked open and he stepped inside.

The lights had stopped working, but shafts of sunlight cut into the cool shade from high windows. Shelves upon shelves of books lined the walls and several more large bookcases stood throughout the single cavernous room.

The fox perused the shelves. Most humans may not have been particularly hospitable toward Mobians, but they did have some excellent writers. He selected a few titles and returned to a patch of large, comfortable chairs he had passed in his search. Putting his feet up and grabbing a book off the top of his stack, he settled in to read away the evening.

_Maybe I should bring some of these home with me, _he thought when he reached the end of the first chapter. His own collection had been read again and again, so much so that the pages were falling out of the binding.

There was a click by his left ear. He froze.

"Don't move, dirtbag."

Tails sighed and lowered his book. He had been so engrossed he hadn't heard anyone approach. He turned, and found himself looking down the barrel of a revolver.

"You know, I'm really starting to get sick of people pointing guns at my face."

The blond-haired human male holding the weapon spoke again, his voice shaking.

"Shut up! It's bad enough you guys ran everybody out of town, why can't you just leave me alone?"

Tails thought back. He didn't recall running anybody out of any towns recently. He calmly reached over and placed his book back on the pile.

"It seems we have a case of mistaken identity on our hands," he said. "Now, I'm not entirely certain who you think I am, but I can assure you that if I wanted you dead, you would be."

The human chose to ignore him.

"I'm surprised you things even have enough brain cells to read!" he snarled.

"If you're trying to endear yourself to me, racism isn't the way to go about it." The fox sat up. "But like I said, I'm really not here for you."

"Oh yeah?" he asked, pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose.

"Yeah."

"Then what are you doing here?"

Tails reached for his book again. "That's none of your concern."

There was a loud bang that echoed off the stone walls and a spray of paper flew from the fox's hand. He frowned.

"Okay, now I'm annoyed." He turned to the human. "That was a pretty damn good book you just shot."

"Tell me why you're here or the next one will be your head."

Tails glared for a moment before answering. "A thief took something of mine. I would like it back. So I followed him."

"And what the hell are you doing in my library?"

"I'm waiting for some of them to fall asleep before I go in. Dying wasn't on my agenda for the day."

The man scoffed. "You're one of them! They're not gonna do anything to you!"

Tails leaned in closer, and the human jumped back. He stared the man dead in the eyes and spoke slowly and deliberately.

"They are a bunch of spineless, unevolved idiots." Tails stood and the man began to back away. "And I am not." He snatched the gun out of his hands and quickly unloaded it. "Whatever I may be, I promise you I am not 'one of them.'"

The human looked scared. Tails sat back down and placed the empty gun on the table next to his books. He tossed the handful of bullets over his shoulder.

"If you're going to shoot somebody, just shoot them," the fox said. The human looked confused. "I'll be out of your hair soon enough. Are you the librarian?"

"I... I was."

He pointed to the shredded remains of the book. "Do you have another copy of that?" The human nodded, looking perplexed. "Would you go get it for me, please?"

"I... wait... you're really not with them?"

"No. I'm my own special breed of asshole."

Still unsure, the human disappeared to search for the book. Tails leaned back in his chair and looked up at the ceiling. The dome was dizzyingly high.

Soon, he heard footsteps returning. He had half-expected the man to return with another gun, but all he held was different edition of the Vonnegut novel the fox had been reading.

"Thanks," said Tails, placing the book on the stack for later reading. "So the thieves ran everybody out of town? I know Robotnik doesn't typically go after human settlements."

The man sat in another chair and began polishing his glasses on his shirt. He looked to be in his early twenties.

"Yes. They came from all over - survivors of Swatbot raids. We hardly knew what hit us."

Tails nodded. "I've seen desperate people do crazy things."

The human suddenly looked angry. "They didn't do it because they were desperate!" he spat. "They did it because it was funny! We offered them food, shelter - anything they needed! And then..." He trailed off. His rage subsided as quickly as it had come. "And then..." A faraway look came over him as he relived some painful memory.

Tails decided to interrupt. "So what's your name?"

"Huh? Oh, uh... Ellison. I'm... I was the librarian."

"Miles."

"Charmed." It sounded insincere, more out of politeness than anything.

"So it's just you?" Tails looked around the room. "This place is huge."

Ellison swelled with pride. "Yep. I have a mental catalogue of every single book in this place." He paused. "That was probably a lot more impressive when there were still people here. Used to be a town full of intellectuals, you know."

"Really?"

"Yeah. That's probably why we were such an easy target. Picking on the nerds and such."

"Believe me, nobody understands that better than I do."

They sat in silence for a moment before Ellison spoke again.

"They killed my brother."

"Oh, I uh... I'm sorry. I know what that's like."

"Dragged him out into the street and shot him right in front of me. Everyone who hadn't left by that point decided it'd be a good time to split."

"But not you?"

"Nah. They never come in here anyway. Too stupid. Besides, I couldn't bear to let this place go. A home without books is a body without soul."

"Was that Cicero?"

Ellison nodded, looking surprised.

"Well," began Tails, "I have a plan that should solve both of our problems, but if it works, you'll need to clear out for a little while." He could see that Ellison was about to object, so he continued. "Only for a few days. I think I've got some people following me, and if they come crawling around here you won't want to meet them."

After a moment of hesitation, he reluctantly agreed and they sat in silence once more. The man motioned to the Vonnegut novel.

"I haven't read that one in a while. Would you mind... you know, reading aloud?"

"Sure." The fox picked up the novel and opened to the beginning.

"Oh, no - just go ahead and start wherever you left off."

Tais nodded, flipped to his page, cleared his throat, and began.

"Listen: Billy Pilgrim has come unstuck in time..."

...

Several hours later, the book was finished and the sun had long since set.

Tails eyed the remaining stack longingly. "I suppose I'd better go."

"You can check them out if you want, I guess."

The fox brightened. "Really?"

"Yeah, as long as you bring them back. Eventually. Is there anything else you need?"

"Actually, if you have any 9mm rounds, I'd appreciate your lending them to me."

The human nodded. He disappeared for a moment, then returned with an ammo box. After Tails had reloaded the Springfield's magazine and re-holstered it, Ellison showed him to the door.

"Do come back... you know, when you have the chance. Civilized company is so hard to come by."

He promised he would, then pushed the door open. Outside, the town had been transformed. Moonlight cascaded over the empty street, pooling in lustrous ribbons of pearly white. The library overlooked the town like a castle, and Tails was struck by a sense of majesty. They stood there on the marble steps and admired the silent spectacle.

"I get the feeling I would have liked it here," Tails mused sadly.

"I only wish you could have seen it. It used to be great."

"It could be great again someday." Tails looked at the abandoned shops. "Maybe they'll come back."

Ellison nodded. "A great city is that which has the greatest men and women."

"If it be a few ragged huts, it is still the greatest city in the world," said Tails, finishing the quote. "Whitman."

The human smiled. "I do like you, Miles."

The fox grinned. "Call me Tails."

"Alright. Your books will be waiting for you when you return... Tails."

With that, Ellison returned inside, leaving Tails alone on the stone steps. A cool breeze swept across him, chilling him to the bone. He wasn't sure whether it was the wind or the Vonnegut, but for some reason, Tails couldn't shake the feeling that he'd passed a threshold much greater than the library's door.

The building's courtyard wound around the back, lined with dead hedges. At the edge, a large balcony overlooked what had probably once been a beautiful rolling plain. Tails leaned against the stone railing and took in one last moment of tranquility before heading down a staircase cut into the side of the cliff. Things were about to get a lot more violent.

The storm drain Dimitri had referred to was a large circular outlet set into the cliff. Tails peered into the darkness and listened for voices, but heard nothing. The pitch black drain seemed to swallow him whole as he climbed inside, careful not to slip on the slick surface. He felt his way along, completely blind.

The drain widened and the walls fell away from his fingertips. The ground felt flatter here and he could see a faint light around a bend up ahead. As he drew closer and his eyes adjusted, he could see that the tunnel had become larger and more rectangular.

A laugh barked out from up ahead. Tails tensed and drew the Springfield. A pair of voices floated around the corner, coming closer. Seeing nowhere else to hide, the fox flattened himself against the wall and held his breath. A pair of thieves rounded the corner.

"Man, I fuckin' hate this place at night," complained a familiar voice.

"Afraid of the dark, Marv?" the other teased.

"Fuck you."

Tails squinted as they walked past. He could just make out the cougar from the motel along with another Mobian he didn't recognize.

Just a few steps past Tails, one of them clicked on a flashlight. His eyes widened. Their voices drifted off out of the tunnel, and he finally exhaled. Another couple of feet and he'd have been caught.

The fox peeled himself off the wall and continued, tightening his grip on the Springfield.

_I must be under the main street by now._

As he rounded the corner, the acrid smell of tobacco smoke reached his nose. He ducked against the wall again as another bandit came into view. A crude hole had been blasted into the side of the tunnel - this was the source of the light - and the brown dog was seated on a large piece of rubble in front. He was facing Tails, cigarette in hand, but hadn't seen him come around the corner.

_No way around. I'll have to wait._

Tails stood for a few minutes and watched the glowing red cherry float back and forth from the dog's mouth down to his side. Eventually, he crushed out the cigarette, stood, and disappeared into the hole. The fox waited a few seconds before slipping in after him.

He climbed through the short tunnel and found himself on a ledge overlooking a larger cavern. To his left, a ramp spiraled down to the floor below. He ducked behind a pile of rocks and peeked over the edge. Jackie stood in the center of a group of other Mobians.

"And then I was all, 'You're pinned down, asshole!'" the coyote bragged. "And he starts screamin' and beggin' for his life. I was about to shoot him, but then the little bitch starts _crying!" _The other thieves laughed. "So it's like, well fuck, I can't shoot the guy if he's crying! So I says, 'I'll let you live, but don't ever let me catch your ass around here again!' And then I stole his gun and kicked him out the door!" The thieves laughed again.

Tails remembered a slightly different version of events.

"Ha ha! 'You're pinned down, asshole!'" one of them repeated, far too amused by the exaggerated tale.

Jackie was now proudly flashing around his Desert Eagle like a trophy. Tails had to stop himself from shooting him right then and there.

_Now now, there'll be plenty of time for murder later. If you kill him now, you're never getting that gun back._

The coyote raised the gun in the air and fired. A loud boom resounded in the enclosed space. The crowd cheered. He fired again. They cheered again. Tails saw the brown dog tap at the pockets on his vest.

"Ah, shit. I forgot my lighter. Hold on."

He made for the ramp. Tails bolted back through the tunnel, hoping to hide in the dark. As he raced for the corner, a pair of voices reached his ears, accompanied by footsteps moving in his direction.

_Fuck! They're back!_

He could hear the dog coming through the tunnel. None of the piles of rubble were large enough to hide behind. There was nowhere to hide.

The voices rounded the corner as Tails fumbled with the Springfield. He hissed as he was suddenly blinded by a flashlight.

"Hey!"

"Holy fuck, that's the guy from the motel!"

He felt cold metal dig into his back as the dog arrived.

"Don't move."

He froze. "What do you know? I guess smoking is bad for _my_ health too!"

"Drop the gun and put your hands up."

He did so. The flashlight was lowered, but he still couldn't see. Someone gave him a shove. Disoriented, he fell to the ground. The butt of a rifle connected with the back of his head, and he blacked out.

...

Tails was beginning to consider a lifestyle change. Of the last three times he had slept, he'd been knocked unconscious twice and passed out drunk the other. It was a wonder he hadn't suffered any serious brain damage yet.

In fact, waking up to the sight of Jackie's stupid grin, he almost wished he had.

"Man, you got a lot of balls comin' here after I already kicked your ass once!" the coyote taunted.

"You know, I think I know a psychiatrist who can help you out with those delusions," the fox replied.

Jackie frowned. "Yeah, you talk a lot of shit, but I'm not the one who's tied up, am I?"

Tails looked. He was indeed restrained again, tied to a chair in another cave.

_I hope this doesn't become a regular thing._

"Now I got you right where I want you..." The coyote raised the Desert Eagle to the fox's temple.

"Ugh, please don't hold it like that," Tails objected. "If you're going to shoot me, at least _pretend_ you know how a gun works."

He heard a snicker behind him. Jackie stepped back and fired a shot at the wall. "You think I'm fuckin' playin'?"

"No, just remarkably unintelligent."

The coyote snarled and jammed the weapon between Tails' eyes. He pulled the trigger and flinched, expecting a spray of blood. The gun clicked quietly.

"Yeah, see, I figured you wouldn't have reloaded it."

Muffled laughter came from over his shoulder. Enraged, Jackie yelled and whipped him in the face with the hot barrel. Tails grunted at the sharp pain near his eye, feeling hot blood spill over his face. He yelled in frustration.

"Augh! You tore my _stitches,_ you _fuck!_" he spat.

The coyote wound up his arm to hit him again.

"That's enough, Jackie," said a female voice, still laughing. The coyote looked up, fuming, as a snow leopard stepped into view.

"The fuck? You said I could kill him, Holly!"

"I thought you could," she replied tauntingly. "But you've got him tied to a chair and somehow you're still his bitch." She walked over and eased the gun out of his hands. "Besides, I think I have a far more entertaining idea." The leopard placed the gun on a table next to its holster, then turned to address Tails. "How about you fight him. Hand to hand."

Jackie was incredulous. "_This_ guy?"

Tails sized him up.

_Scrawny... probably never fought without a gun... doesn't look like he could throw a punch..._

"Yeah, that shouldn't be a problem," he concluded.

"Good."

The coyote scoffed. "Whatever. When I kill you I'm takin' your other gun." With that, he left through the narrow passageway.

Holly turned back to Tails. "You've got quite a mouth on you." She leaned down in front of him and caressed his cheek with the back of her hand. Her breasts were just inches from his eyes, but he kept them trained firmly on hers. "I like that." The hand made its way lower, past his neck and down to his chest. "I'd like to see what _else_ you've got."

"You'll have to excuse me, but I'm not really in the mood. I've been awake for about three minutes and I've already been threatened with death."

The leopard stood. "Mmm, such a shame. But you're cute, so I'm gonna cut you a deal." She motioned to his guns. "When you win, you get these back and you're free to go."

"What's the catch?"

She crouched down so she was at eye level. "First, you have to do something for me." She ran a hand over his upper arm. "Winning shouldn't be a problem for you, but I want more than that. I want you to tear his pride to pieces. Don't just beat him, humiliate him."

"I take it you two don't get along?"

Her face grew serious. "I can't stand that cocky little bitch. He walks around like he's in charge of the place, but he's not." She tightened her grip on his arm. "_I _am." Her expression melted into a devious smile. "So do you think you can do that for me?"

"It would be my pleasure."

"Good. Now let's take care of that." She pointed at the bleeding gash on his face. She disappeared for a moment, then returned with some stolen medical supplies and set to work on fresh stitches.

"Think you could untie me now?" Tails asked.

Holly grinned and placed a hand on his thigh. "Oh no. I think I like you like this."

...

A few minutes and several suggestive comments later, the stitches were finished. Holly held up a mirror for Tails, and he had to admit that the leopard had done a decent job.

He was untied and escorted back into the larger cavern he had seen when he arrived. The lizard's count had been accurate - around thirty Mobians of various races had formed a ring with Jackie in the center. The fox was thrust into it with him, and the gap in the wall of bodies melted shut behind him.

"Gonna fuckin' murder you, fox boy."

"Doubtful."

Holly called out from the top of the ramp. "On my mark, boys!"

The coyote fell into a ridiculous imitation of what he probably thought was a fighting stance. A strange grinding noise came from above, but nobody other than Tails took notice.

"Go!"

Jackie made a sudden dash for Tails and dove at his legs. The fox easily leapt over the attack and watched the coyote collide with the ground. He scrambled to his feet and coughed out a mouthful of dirt before lunging at Tails and throwing a punch. Tails sidestepped it and used his foot to sweep Jackie's legs out from under him. He landed on his face.

Tails moved away and allowed his opponent to stand. Jackie ran at him and aimed a kick at his head. The fox stepped back, grabbed the coyote's foot, and wrenched it upwards, flipping him onto his back. From the ground, Jackie kicked at his ankle. Tails dodged effortlessly.

_Man, this guy's really got nothing!_

Jackie attempted to rush him again, but tripped over his own feet before he even got close. The coyote climbed up again and shouted.

"C'mon! Fuckin' hit me!"

Tails fucking hit him.

Stepping in closer and deflecting a weak punch, he leaned forward and slapped Jackie in the face. The crowd erupted in laughter.

Jackie gave a scream of rage and reared back to throw a harder punch. Tails took the opportunity to grab the coyote's bandana and yank it down over his eyes. The sudden blindness threw him off balance, and Tails was able to easily spin him around like a child about to hit a pinata. He grabbed a handful of Jackie's earrings firmly in one fist and slammed a foot into his back. The coyote went down, screaming as the piercings tore free from his flesh. Tails jammed a foot into the small of his back and smirked.

"You're pinned down, asshole."

The thieves roared with laughter, then started to cheer. The fight was over in less than a minute. Tails looked up at Holly and found her motioning to him. The bandits parted for him as he left Jackie moaning on the ground and made his way to the ramp. He looked up. A few small stones had begun to fall from above.

_Right on cue._

"A deal's a deal." The leopard grinned as she handed him his things. "Best show I've seen in a long time!" She placed a hand on his chest and smiled seductively. "I think I'd like to get to know you better."

"Right. I wish I could stay longer, but-"

The ceiling caved in. Chunks of rock rained down on the crowd, some particularly large pieces connecting with bodies and breaking bones. The thieves screamed in confusion as group of humans in riot gear rappelled down on ropes.

"ATTENTION, FREEDOM FIGHTERS:" one of them boomed through a megaphone, "YOU ARE ALL UNDER ARREST."

"-but as you can see, it's time for me to make my exit," the fox finished before slipping past the leopard and taking off down the tunnel.

Holly didn't seem at all upset that her operation had been busted. In fact, she seemed amused.

"Be seein' ya kid!" she called after him. She sounded like she meant it.

Outside, Tails dashed up the staircase and entered the library through a rear door. He called out.

"Ellison?"

No reply. It seemed the human had taken his advice after all. A camouflage backpack sat on the table with a note taped to it.

TAILS,

PLEASURE CHATTING WITH YOU. TREAT THESE WELL. YOU ARE ALWAYS WELCOME AT THE HARLAND LIBRARY.

-ELLISON

He unzipped the bag and looked inside. The books he had chosen were neatly ordered inside, along with the remainder of the 9mm ammo from earlier. He swapped his Desert Eagle back into its holster and dropped the Springfield into the bag.

Tails chanced a look out the front door. Part of the street had been demolished, and military personnel milled about their new entrance to what they presumed to be Knothole. He exited out the back door.

Now that he was sure he was being followed, he knew a way to get them off his back. If it worked, he was positive they would leave him alone.

_Surely they wouldn't follow me into Robotropolis._


End file.
